


Be Nice To Mantis

by blueberryfallout



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Found Family, Kindness, Team Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-12
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-30 21:57:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10885734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueberryfallout/pseuds/blueberryfallout
Summary: i really liked mantis and felt bad for her during a few times while Guardians 2 was playing and also that movie was AMAZING one of the best marvel movies yet, i openly wept during the last half and just!! go see it! spoilers if you haven't seen it!





	Be Nice To Mantis

**Author's Note:**

> i really liked mantis and felt bad for her during a few times while Guardians 2 was playing and also that movie was AMAZING one of the best marvel movies yet, i openly wept during the last half and just!! go see it! spoilers if you haven't seen it!

Groot  
Mantis gets along well with Groot, she thinks. She’s not always very good with social interaction and the rest of the Guardians keep playing tricks on her. They’re very amusing! She always makes sure to laugh when they do.

But Groot doesn’t play tricks. Mostly he stays in his room and plays video games. Right now he’s out on the main deck with Rocket, who’s perched on his shoulder. Rocket is not a pet, Mantis learned recently. Rocket is a person, he just doesn’t look like one.

“Can I help?” Mantis asks, coming up on Groot’s left side and brushing his bark. His thoughts move like the sticky xinkatu syrup back on Ego, so slow Mantis immediately stills, her eyes glazing over. Groot gently disengages himself from her by taking a step back and she shakes herself, smiling. 

“I am Groot,” Groot says softly, with enough warning in his tone that Mantis doesn’t need Rocket to translate. 

Rocket scoffs, gently bapping the back of Groot’s head with a paw. “Whattya mean people can’t fathom your intellect, you big dummy?” 

Groot shrugs one shoulder, jostling Rocket, before turning back to the complicated electronics panel he’s been fixing. “I am Groot.” 

“Yeah, yeah, your brain spans eternity, sure,” Rocket says, gesturing for Mantis to hand him the laser screw. Groot just shoots her a kind smile, one thin branch curling around her ankle in a gesture of affection. Mantis smiles back; she learned how to smile the right way a couple months ago, by accident. Drax says her smiles are _hideous_.  
*  
Drax  
“Come here,” Drax orders one day, gesturing for Mantis to join him in the view port. They’ve been orbiting the same giant red planet for the past couple days as the rest of the Guardians work on repairs. Mantis kneels at his side, hands in her lap, back ramrod straight; it’s the resting position Ego taught her. Drax has his legs crossed, staring into the outreaches of space. “This is my home planet,” he says, gesturing.  
Mantis nods, resisting the urge to touch his skin. She was taught by Gamora that some people don’t like to be read without warning, even when Mantis is only trying to clarify. “Those stars right there are the belt of the never ending hunter,” he tells her, pointing to a thin line of five especially bright stars.

“Why does the hunter hunt?” Mantis asks, pressing her palms to the glass of the view port. Her hands leave smudged prints. Unlike many species, Mantis has no fingerprints to differentiate her from others. 

“She travelled too far from the path and got lost among the stars,” Drax says before pointing at another, farther, group of stars, in a triangle. “There is the home of her husband, where he waits for eternity to see her again.”

“Will they never meet?” Mantis is sad, thinking of Drax and his own, constant loneliness.

“They’ll meet when the Sea-Wolf swallows the universe,” Drax promises. He seems to find some hope in this, so Mantis hopes, too. Maybe one day that means Drax will see his wife and daughter again.  
*  
Gamora  
At first, Mantis is terrified of Gamora. She snarls and snaps and sharpens her knives every time Mantis is in the room, and never lets Mantis touch her skin. 

But a couple weeks after they defeat Ego, Mantis gets sick. She’s never been off Ego before, her immune system is not strong. So she shivers and shakes alone in her bunk, horribly confused. Is she dying? Her throat hurts so bad and everything is spinning and her nose won’t clear.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mantis flinches away from Gamora’s voice, curling further into the blanket nest she’s made. Even her jaw aches, antenna drooping with misery. 

“I’m dying,” she rasps, gaze focused somewhere on Gamora’s green cheek. “I’m _cold_ and everything hurts. You have to tell the Guardians.” Mantis wants to be shot out into the stars like Yondu, to drift forever through the galaxy. On her home planet, the dead are eaten. Mantis is pretty sure no one here will agree to that.

“Hm.” With one graceful movement Gamora kneels at her bedside and puts a hand on Mantis’s forehead, her skin several degrees cooler than Mantis is currently running. Mantis is too sick to flinch away, pressing into the touch without thinking. She reads concern and care and, after a second, kind amusement. 

“Why are you laughing?” Mantis demands, pushing Gamora’s hand away. “I’m dying and you’re happy! You hate me!” To her horror, Mantis feels tears well up in her eyes; she sniffs and goes to roll over, but she’s held down by Gamora’s strong hands.

“Hush,” Gamora orders, smoothing Mantis’s antennae back in a gesture so soothing Mantis can’t help but sigh, going limp for the first time since the shivering started. “You’re just sick. There’s bacteria in your body making you feel like this.” 

“I’m not dying?”

The smile Gamora gives her is kind of like the one she always gave to baby Groot; indulgent, soft. “No. It’ll pass in a day or so.”

“Oh.” 

“I’m going to get you painkillers and soup.” Mantis watches as Gamora stands and heads for the doorway, pausing to look back at her. “And Mantis? I don’t hate you.”

“Okay,” Mantis says in a small voice, her antennae perking up. “I don’t hate you either.”

She’s asleep by the time Gamora comes back, so she doesn’t see Gamora pull the blankets over her shoulders and sit, guarding, until the fever goes down.  
*  
Peter  
Mantis doesn’t think when she sees the energy blast heading for Peter’s back, she just jumps. The pain in her side is baffling; she falls to her knees holding it and watches green blood drool from between her fingers. “Oh dear.” Peter turns, sees her, and yells, killing the Xandarian that shot her and dropping to hold her up before she falls over. “I’m sorry,” she gasps, clutching weakly at his shoulders, reading worry and fear. 

“Why the hell did you do that?” he asks, sliding his hands down so he can carry her, easily, loping towards the ship where the rest of the Guardians are waiting. 

“I didn’t tell you about Ego. I had to-” 

“You don’t owe me for that,” he half yells in her face as they run up the gangplank, Mantis’s blood gushing onto his jacket. She tries to apologize again but everything is starting to go blurry at the edges, Drax’s concerned face swimming into view. She wants to say they’re family, except Peter is pressing down on her wound and it hurts so bad that she passes out.

She wakes up in the medbay with Peter napping in one of the uncomfortable folding chairs next to her, her blood still staining his jacket and shirt. He snores a little in his sleep, head lolling. Ego spent so long looking for him, but in the end Peter doesn’t look very impressive. She loves him anyway though. She loves all of them.

“Peter?” He jolts, snorting, and wakes up. Mantis looks down at herself; her overshirt is gone, leaving her in her undertop with bandages wound around her waist. It doesn’t hurt. Yet.

“You feelin’ okay?” Peter asks, rubbing at his eyes. 

“I’m fine.” She’s thirsty, a little hungry, so she grabs for the glass of water on the table beside her and drinks deep. 

“You saved my life out there.” Mantis blinks at him, then nods. Of course she did. She’d do that for all of them. “Thanks.”

He gets up to leave, but before he’s a step away Mantis begs, “Wait!” With a showy spin Peter turns back to her, looking uncomfortable in his bloodsoaked clothes. “Please stay with me?” She doesn’t want to be alone, not when pain is beginning to crawl up her ribs in waves. 

Peter pulls the chair a little closer to her bedside and sits down again, offering a hand for her to hold. She takes it, reading care and concern and gratitude. Peter must see her antennae glowing, and usually he would take his hand away. This time, he just turns it palm up and squeezes once, giving her a smile that’s barely rough around the edges. “I’ll stay as long as you need.”  
*  
Rocket  
Once Mantis understood that Rocket isn’t a pet, their relationship became a lot easier. “Wrench,” he demands, taking the wrench she hands to him and spinning it once before setting to work on a gun that’s bigger than he is. “Y’see this?” he asks, tapping the pulsing blue barrel of the gun. 

“I see it!”

“This is the Dracon 3500. Double barreled action, three quarteks of plasma, coolants so it never overheats.” He sighs dreamily, closing the open panel and tucking it into the holster on his back. 

“I would like to learn how to shoot.” 

“Nah,” he dismisses. “You’re too nice.” Mantis has never thought she was nice; people who are nice wouldn’t let Ego kill hundreds of people because they were too scared to say anything, too scared to end up in the caverns beneath Ego’s surface. She grabs at her antennae and tugs, distressed. “Hey, whoa, relax,” Rocket scolds, grabbing at her hands with his paws. “You’ll pull those outta your head at this rate.” 

“I have done many not nice things,” Mantis confesses, stomach churning. “I am not nice.” 

“Sure you are. You were scared.” Rocket pushes his head under her hands, offering it to scratch. She does, touched and careful to be aware of the cybernetic implants. This close, all she can read from Rocket is honesty and trust. “We’ve all done lots of not nice things.”  
Mantis has to agree, and she perks up when Rocket doesn’t snarl as her hands stroke between his ears. She used to be scared all the time. She’s less so now.  
*  
Nebula  
Nebula only visits them sometimes, when she’s not flying through the galaxy gathering weapons to kill Thanos with. Every time she and Gamora talk for several minutes with their heads pressed together, hands clasped, and Gamora always seems happier. Mostly, Nebula doesn’t interact with the rest of the Guardians besides Kraglin, who’s only sometimes a Guardian and doesn’t really count. 

It’s why Mantis jumps a little when Nebula comes up, on silent padding feet like a raistor, and sits next to her. For a while they stare at each other, Nebula very still, Mantis startled; she realizes that Nebula’s eyes are as large and dark as hers, which is kind of comforting. Mantis’s hands flutter anxiously up to her antennae and then down to her lap, where she tries to keep them from moving. 

“Is there…Um…” She tries to smile but she can feel the way it twists on her face as Nebula tilts her head in a quick, mechanical way. This close, Mantis can hear the whirring of her robotic implants and wonders if any of Nebula’s skin is left for her to read. She’s always preferred the way Nebula looks to everyone else in the Guardians; Nebula is smooth and streamlined and something in Mantis’s insectoid heritage craves that, leaves her wanting to touch the flat surface of Nebula’s cheek, press her lips to the range of circuitry around Nebula’s eye. 

The thought makes her frown and stare at her knees, fussing with the top of her glove where it wraps her bicep. A second later her fingers brush Nebula’s, who’s helping to pull it up higher. Surprised, Mantis risks a glance and catches Nebula watching her, something confused and thoughtful in her gaze. “My sister speaks highly of you.” 

This is news to Mantis, who can’t help but beam with pride. “And she loves you very much!” Nebula pulls away, and already Mantis misses the coolness of her touch. She can’t help but feel she’s done something wrong, reaching for Nebula without thinking. Her wrist is grabbed by the strong fingers of Nebula’s remaining hand, the grip firm but not bone breaking like it could be. “I’m sorry!” Mantis apologizes, her thumb accidentally brushing Nebula’s, immediately flooding her with desire and confusion and deep, deep rage. “You like me?” she blurts as Nebula breaks their grip and scurries back a few paces. 

“I like _no one_ ,” Nebula scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. That’s not true; Nebula likes Gamora and Groot and sometimes Kraglin, on good days. Nebula gets up and stomps away before Mantis can speak, leaving Mantis alone to think about the tiny, hopeful spark that’s just ignited in her chest.


End file.
